Saving Dembe
by CorkyB45
Summary: Raymond Reddington has done few selfless acts in his life. In a small brothel in Nairobi he performed another selfless act that changed the life of a scared and abused child. By doing so he earned himself a lifelong companion. This will be a multi-chapter story. It is all written and I will try to post a chapter a day.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own the Blacklist and I'm not making any profit from playing with their characters. I'm just trying to pass the time until Super Bowl Sunday.

Red no longer considered himself an honest man, but when compared to the bastards that rad the Eberhardt Cartel he was an angel. He found it repugnant enough that the common practice for controlling their adult victims was forced addiction to narcotics, that plus the fact that they dealt in child prostitution and worse made him want to burn down their entire operation. The problem with that was he wasn't in any position to get away with it. It has only been two years since he was forced to flee on the way home on Christmas Eve with on the clothes on his back and a box of classified documents he'd removed from his office on a hunch. It was only those documents and the threat of releasing them that was keeping him alive.

He sold some of the least important secrets from his stash to get enough funds to start his new criminal enterprise. The U.S. Navy had trained him well. His ability to plan for all contingencies and see his opponents moves far in advance. It didn't hurt that he had a photographic memory and never forgot a face or name.

His dealings with the Eberhardt Cartel brought him here to Nairobi. He was trying to broker a deal between this cartel and a second one call the Mombasa Cartel. Mombasa was able to obtain women and some men for use by Eberhardt in their various brothels around the world. Mombasa was now demanding a significant increase in what they were receiving for each unit provided. If they didn't receive more money they were threatening to start selling to the Eberhardt's rival cartels. Red was trying to reach a compromise that would be satisfactory to both parties. The negotiations have been dragging on for two weeks already. If something didn't change soon he would either need to take more drastic action or give up. Giving up would damage his reputation and would only be done as a last resort. He couldn't afford for anything to damage his burgeoning fame as a man that could get any deal done.

Red had recruited a number of mercenaries already in his short criminal career. Most of them were former soldiers, marines, and Navy seals that he had worked with during his own short Naval career. He was prepared to call in an attack on both cartels to grab someone close to the head of each cartel for use as leverage. He was quickly learning that he had to do some things he never would have considered just a few short years ago.

Tonight's meeting was taking place in one of the Eberhardt brothels. He was getting so tired of trying to convince the two cartel representatives that with a small compromise they would both benefit.

The small room where the meeting was being held felt even smaller due to the number of guards each side felt it necessary to bring with them. He sat a scratched round wooden table with a cartel rep on each side of him.

"Zuka we have gone over this before, there is no way Eberhardt is going to pay you double the current rate per unit. There has been a much higher rate of sick and starved units included in your last number of deliveries. They have had to bear the added costs of getting them well enough to work. To ensure their continued access to your stock, they are willing to increase their payment per unit by 33% for adults and 25% for minors. That is a significant increase and much more than you would get from their competition." Red explained to the Mombasa rep.

Zuka sneered when Red mentioned the condition of those recently sold to Eberhardt. What did they expect? Did they think all of their captives volunteered to be sold into slavery or that they were captured without a fight?

"The merchandise is delivered in good enough condition to perform their duties. How difficult is it to just lay there and spread their legs anyway?" Zuka said with a cruel laugh.

Red really wanted to just shoot Zuka and get rid of his crude company. The problem with that is the negotiations would need to start over and he'd be doing them for free this time.

"Mr. Reddington has correctly stated our final terms. We require the quality of the merchandise improve before we will ever consider increasing our payment to more than 33%. If the quality continues to deteriorate we will seek alternative sources for our merchandise." Andrew the Eberhardt cartel rep replied.

This statement kicked off another round of yelling and threats from both sides. Red called an end to the meeting and strode angrily from the room. He quickly made his way back to the set of rooms set aside for his use.

He slammed the door to his suite and immediately poured himself a drink from the small bar located in the corner of the living area. He took a sip from his glass while walking into the suite's bedroom. He was tired of dealing with this scum. As bad as he had become he'd found that he still could look down on these types of criminals.

His earlier thoughts of finding some leverage to move these negotiations along was becoming more and more appealing. It was obvious these two were never going to agree to terms on their own. He picked up his satellite phone and gave the order to locate and retrieve the predetermined targets.

It took his men a couple of days to grab Zuca's song and Andres's youngest daughter. Red spent this time with a lovely American woman he'd met at a bar a few miles from the brothel. He didn't have anything against paying for sex when it was his only option, but he drew the line at paying for sex with a prostitute that didn't have any say in what they were doing.

Once he had received notice that the hostages were safely ensconced in a local village in Sierra Leone, Red called for another negotiation session.

This session proved quite profitable. When Red told them that he was the person holding their children hostage each group quickly agreed to the 33% increase. The Mombasa rep also acceded to the requirement that each person they sold would be in good health. If they were not delivered healthy the agreed upon cost to Eberhardt would be what they were currently paying. A copy of the signed agreement was provided to each party and the meeting ended with Red's assurance that his hostages would be released within the week. Red wanted to make sure he had enough time to get out of Nairobi while the hostages were still being held. This precaution would keep either side from deciding to make him pay for his actions with his life.

It was too late after the meeting for Red to fly on to Paris. He would need to spend an additional night in the city.

He'd managed to fend off the nightly offer of female companionship free of charge. The brothel owner was grateful for his help in reaching an agreement and thought of his offer as a great bonus to the cash he was receiving. After refusing for what seemed like the millionth time, he was offered his choice of male companionship. The owner's thought being that if he was turning down girl after girl the only answer could be that he was gay. Instead of trying to make him understand how he felt about unwillingly bedmates, he simply turned down this offer as well.

Red found it impossible to sleep. He was so anxious to get out of here he couldn't shut his mind off. He got out of bed, made sure all his bags were packed, then decided to take a look around the areas in the building he hadn't explored during the busy day and evening hours.

He avoided any of the rooms on the second and third floor. These were the rooms where all the brothels business took place. The third floor was where and special requests were accommodated. He knew this was much more than simple BDSM and as much as he enjoyed kinky sex, he didn't want to know too much of what went on up there.

He took the stairs down to the first floor. The decor on the first level was classic brothel. The walls were covered in red velvet like wallpaper and the lights were always dim. Besides the "reception" area there was a large room off of the reception area where all the available men, women and children sat awaiting a customer to make their choice. In the other corner of the first floor was a bar area that often held the friends of customers that didn't want to partake in the business of the house.

Red didn't find anything on the first floor to interest him. He located another set of stairs leading down another level to the basement hidden behind a door in the kitchen. He opened the door and started down the stairs.

The basement was dimly lit by a single bulb hanging precariously from the rooms ceiling by a single thin wire. He was almost to the foot of the stairs when he realized that he wasn't alone. Chained to a standpipe in a corner of the room was a teenage boy. The boy was in bad shape. Red saw bruises on his face and peppered all over his ribs and back. He also saw what looked like untreated burns. It was obvious the boy hadn't eaten in days. Red was sure that he wouldn't be able to stand without the aid of the pipe to which he was chained. When he reached the floor of the basement and was standing a few short feet away the boy raised his head and looked at Red with defiance radiating from every pore.

"Do you speak English?" Red asked without really expecting an affirmative answer. He was surprised when the boy nodded his head yes.

"What is your name?"

"Dembe" the boy answered in a hoarse voice.

"When was the last time you had anything to drink Dembe?" Red asked while looking around for a sink of any kind.

"I don't know a few days I think."

Red finally located a small dirty sink in the corner of the room. There were no cups to be found, but he did finally manage to find an old empty beer bottle on a shelf. He took it to the sink and rinsed it out as best he could. After filling the bottle with water he walked over to the boy. With his hands chained there was no way he'd be able to drink on his own.

"I'm going to help you here. You can't drink this all at once you'll only get sick, so I'll only give you a little at a time. I'm not doing this to tease or torment you. Do you understand? I will give you as much water as you like once I know you'll be able to keep it down." Red said before bringing the bottle to Dembe's lips.

After only a few sips Red pulled the bottle away. Dembe made an involuntary noise of protest. Red simply looked him in the eyes and waited for him to calm down again.

"I know you want more, but you won't thank me if you throw it all back up. Just another minute or so and I'll give a little more." Red told the boy as kindly as he could.

After a couple of more minutes it appeared that he would be able to start giving Dembe more water without worry. He again held the bottle to the boys mouth and allowed him to drink as much as he'd like. Red only pulled the bottle away when it was empty.

"Tell me Dembe why are you chained up down here?"

Dembe looked like he didn't want to answer, but he appeared to decide that he had nothing to lose by answering his question.

"I got tired of being forced to work in the rooms upstairs. I beat up my last customer. Then the bosses here decided to put me down here, they intend to leave me here until I die. I only see someone when they come down to beat me again or a former customer comes down to use me again." Dembe answered in a low voice with an accent that Red couldn't place immediately.

Red was finding himself angrier than he had been in years. The Eberhardt cartel was even more evil than he'd realized. This boy was tall and very muscular. He must have caused a great deal of damage to his last tormenter. He also suspected that what Dembe said was true, they'd leave him here until he was dead.

"How old are you Dembe?"

"I'm 14."

While Red thought that Dembe was still a teenage he would have put his age at 16 or 17, not 14.

"How long have you been forced to work as a prostitute?" Red wasn't sure he really wanted to hear the answer.

"I was taken from my village after my family was killed, I was six." Dembe's voice had gotten quieter and quieter with each answer.

Red wanted to go upstairs grab his gun and start mowing down every cartel member he found. The only thing stopping him was that he'd be killed and Dembe would never get out of here.

"Dembe I'm going to go back to my room upstairs and get my bags. I'll then come back down here and set you free. I can get you out of Nairobi and back to your village if that is where you want to go. You said your family was killed, do you have anyone to stay with in your village?"

Red could see the disbelief warring with hope in the boy's eyes. He doubted Dembe had little or nothing to hope for in the last eight years. He would keep his promise to the boy. It's been a long time since he'd done something so selfless. He hoped he was able to accomplish this without paying a painful cost like last time. He turned around and climbed the stairs heading out of the basement.

It took surprisingly little time to grab his bags and make his way back to the basement. He quickly picked the lock on chains keeping Dembe prisoner. After allowing the boy time to drink another bottle of water Red let him lead the way out of a back exit from the brothel. Dembe had insisted on helping Red carry his bags out. Red made sure he kept hold of the bag containing his payment for the services he'd rendered.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N This is really a filler chapter. It's needed to move the story along.

Red would have liked to take Dembe shopping to get some clothes before leaving the city, but he knew they needed to get far away before anyone noticed Dembe was missing. He pulled a shirt out of one of his bags and told Dembe to put it on. He flagged down a taxi and directed the driver to take him to a private airfield outside the southern part of the city. The promise of a hefty tip kept the driver from questioning Dembe's appearance.

Once he paid the fare and the taxi had left Red turned to the airline office next to the small private jet. His pilot had instructions to be ready to fly him out at first light. He was a bit early, but his pilot was already waiting for him in the office.

"Edward if you can get the plane ready I want to be out of here as soon as possible." Red told him as he waved Dembe into he small office.

The pilot seemed a bit surprised to see that Red wasn't alone, but he simply nodded to Red and climbed into the waiting plane. Red turned and followed Dembe into the office and closed the door behind him.

"We are going to be leaving in about twenty minutes Dembe, We have to get out of here to keep the cartels from finding us, killing you, me or both. I will still get you back to your village as I promised or you can come with me. I'll get you to a doctor to treat your wounds and once you are well enough, if you choose to stay with me, I'll make sure you have the chance to attend school somewhere. You have some time to think about it." Red finished just as the Edward waved them to board the plane.

Dembe didn't move to follow Red immediately. He cleared his throat to get Red's attention. When Red turned to him impatiently he asked, "What do you expect me to do to earn all of this?"

"I don't expect you to do anything. Now come on, there will be food on the plane." Red turned and walked out of the office without a backwards glance. He gave a small grin when he heard Dembe follow him on to the plane.

Red wasn't surprised when Dembe sat as far away from him as possible on the small plane. He would have been very surprised if the boy had trusted him enough already to sit closer. The life he lead wasn't one that he felt would allow him to keep the kid with him for very long, be didn't want to hand him off to anyone else until he was sure the kid would be okay. He had many friends across the globe that might be willing to take him in or he may be able to get him registered at a boarding school. Of course this would prove to be a moot point if Dembe decided he wanted to go back to his village. The boy had to have an amazing inner strength to have survived the horrific childhood he'd experienced.

The plane flew north out of Kenya and on to Turkey where the plane landed only long enough to refuel. After the plane took off again Red gave Edward a change of destination. The plane finally touched down in a small private airfield in Germany. A car was already waiting for them as the plane taxied over to one of two hangars. The driver loaded their luggage into the trunk while Dembe and Red settled themselves in the backseat.

Dembe had finally succumbed to sleep after the plane had taken off in Turkey. He wasn't sure if he trusted Red yet or if he just couldn't fight his exhaustion any longer. Red given Dembe his meal that had been loaded onboard and stored in the small galley. Red could stand to wait for a meal more than the half starved boy.

Red had called ahead to make sure that the house would be ready for their arrival and to make sure a doctor would be there to treat Dembe. When they arrived at Red's safe house they were met by the butler who assured Red that everything was ready. He lead Red and Dembe to a room on the second floor that he had prepared down the hall from Red's suite. It took a little coaxing from Red to get Dembe to enter the room.

"Charles, will you please let the doctor know we are here and tell him I need about 10 minutes, then he can come up."

"Of course sir." Charles said quietly and left the room.

"As I said before the doctor is here to treat your injuries. You have nothing to fear from anyone in this household, but I will understand if you don't want to be alone with the doctor. Do you want me to stay with you and the doctor?" Red asked making sure to keep some distance between himself and Dembe. He didn't want the boy to feel threatened in anyway. He'd experienced too much of that already.

Dembe wasn't sure how he felt being alone with the doctor. He'd been treated by a doctor only when he'd been hurt too severely to heal without treatment. Those were not pleasant experiences, but he had to admit that Red had proven trustworthy so far.

"I don't want you to stay if you have something more important to take care of now. You've done so much already." Dembe said in a voice Red barely heard.

"He'll be up in a moment and I think I'll hang around to hear what he has to say. That way you won't have to tell it all to me in the morning. While we are waiting let me show you which door is to the bathroom." Red said walking passed Dembe to the door in the room that was furthest from the hall. He opened the door and flipped on the lights. When he turned he saw Dembe was still standing in the middle of the room. "What's wrong?"

"Is this your room? Where do you want me to sleep?" Dembe was exhausted and so confused.

Red realized that he hadn't come out and told Dembe that this was his room. He needed to stop assuming the boy would understand these things without being told. It has been far too long since he's been around a teenager, let alone a teenager that was raised in the conditions that Dembe was raised. He wasn't sure he'd have the necessary patience, but he'd try at least for a while.

"Dembe this is your room. My room is down the hall. Once the doctor is done you can go to bed and get some sleep. I'll have someone go into town in the morning and buy you some clothes."

Dembe couldn't believe his ears. This whole room was for him? For the past eight years if he wasn't working he was locked in a room with ten other boys. He couldn't imagine having all this room to himself. He felt like Alice after she fell through the looking glass, nothing was making sense to him.

Red heard footsteps in the hall and turned to see Charles and Dr. Bruner standing outside the door. He motioned the doctor into the room.

"Dembe this is Dr. Bruner. He is my doctor while I'm here and I trust him to take good care of you. Doctor this is Dembe. I found him in some unfortunate circumstances on my latest trip. I was hoping you could take a look and make sure his injuries are treated." Red didn't provide the sordid details and wouldn't do so unless it proved necessary. Dembe deserves to keep what privacy he could.

"Of course Mr. Douglas. Dembe could you tell me what if anything is bothering you?" the doctor asked him kindly in heavily accented English.

"I'm fine, nothing is bothering me." Dembe answered nervously.

"Dembe please take off your shirt. Doctor there are some pretty severe bruises on him and untreated burns on his back. I don't know of anything else, but Dembe I expect you to tell him if there is anything else that needs to be taken care of." Red shouldn't have been surprised by Dembe's answer.

Dembe slowly pulled his borrowed shirt over his head and allowed the doctor to examine him. The doctor treated any obvious injuries before letting Dembe get dressed again. Red would have been surprised if there weren't further injuries that he hadn't seen, but if Dembe didn't admit to anything else he had to let it go. The doctor told Red that he would leave instructions for treating the burns and prescribed a course of antibiotics to fight off any infections that might have set in. The doctor followed Charles from the room after bidding Red and Dembe goodnight.

"Why don't you get some sleep. I'll be right down the hall if you need anything." Red said before leaving the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Dembe stood in the center of the room still unsure if everything that had happened that day was real. He looked around the room and saw a dresser across from the bed. On top of the dresser sat a small television. Dembe had rarely seen any television shows in years. He walked into the bathroom and used the facilities before laying down on top of the bed. He was asleep as soon as he was settled.

Red left instructions with Charles to send one of the house staff to purchase a new wardrobe for Dembe as soon as the stores opened the next day. He made sure they also knew to pick up everything they would need to treat Dembe until the doctor's next visit. He gave Charles as much information he felt that he needed to deal with Dembe until Red was up the next morning. He wasn't sure how the boy would be the next morning, but he didn't want anything to happen that would scare him. That done he'd retired to his own room and nearly collapsed with exhaustion himself.

—

Red woke the next morning to the sound of raised voices and doors slamming in the hall. He got out of bed with a groan and went in search of the cause of all the noise. The boy proved to be very easy to find. He opened his door to find Dembe in the hall moving from bedroom to bedroom.

"What are you doing? Or better yet, why are you yelling? All you had to do was ask for me. Charles would have come to tell me you wanted to see me." Red told Dembe irritably.

"I told him I wanted to see you. He told me I needed to wait. I don't know him and I thought you might have given me to someone else when he wouldn't let me see you." Dembe said with the first hint of fear that Red had seen him display.

"I'm sorry Mr. Reddington. I hoped to allow you to get a bit more sleep before I let him in to speak with you." Charles apologized.

"It's alright Charles. Is it late enough to have sent someone to make the purchases we discussed last night?" Red asked as he rubbed his still tired eyes.

"I sent David and one of the maids off about an hour ago. I don't think they'll be back for a couple of more hours at least."

"Thank you Charles. Dembe, I've sent someone to buy you some clothes. If you'd like to get cleaned up you can use the shower in the room you slept in. I'll let you borrow some of my clothes so you can put on something clean once you get out of the shower. Come in here while I get something for you to wear."

Red turned back to his room and opened drawers as he pulled out some boxers, sweat pants and a t-shirt. He handed them to the boy and lead him back to his room at the end of the hall from the master suite.

"Sir, I still don't understand why you are doing all of this? What do you expect to gain?" Dembe asked looking lost.

"I'm doing this because you are a child and you should never have been forced to endure what you've gone through. I can't save all the kids forced to work for those cartels. Maybe saving you will allow me to live with myself for failing all the other kids. Now go in there and get cleaned up. I'll go do the same. Stay here and when I'm ready we'll go downstairs to breakfast together."

When Red finished showering and dressing in what was for him casual clothes, he returned to find Dembe waiting for him. He wasn't too surprised to find his clothes fitting Dembe a little large, but now as ill fitting as he'd expected. He suspected that Dembe was going to grow to be much taller than he was based on how tall the boy was already.

"Are you hungry Dembe? I'm sure Helga has fixed a huge meal for us. She was delighted to hear there was a teenage boy to feed."

"Wait! May I ask you a question first sir?" Dembe said from where he was standing facing the door.

"Of course you may ask. I may not answer you, but don't let that stop you from asking." Red said with a smirk.

"Charles called you Mr. Reddington. But, the doctor called you Mr. Douglas. I'm confused, what is your name? What should I call you?"

It dawned on Red that he'd never introduced himself to the boy. He'd just decided that Dembe needed to be rescued and he'd done whatever was necessary to accomplish that goal.

"Dembe I apologize for not introducing myself. Let's go down to breakfast and I'll explain it to you."

Red lead the way downstairs and into the dining room to the left of the staircase. He'd been correct about the size of the meal being kept warm on the sideboard. There was both bacon and sausage, eggs, potatoes, pancakes, waffles and toast. Red felt himself gain ten pounds from just looking at all that food.

Helga was waiting for them when they entered the room. She was a middle-aged, grey haired woman with laugh lines marking her face. Red had lured her away from a large Berlin hotel with the promise that she would be able to determine the menu to her heart's content, within reason. The list of foods that Red would not eat was short and didn't contain any foods she would normally cook anyway.

"Helga, lovely to see you as always. Breakfast smells heavenly. Let me introduce you to my guest Dembe." Red said to Helga before turning to Dembe. "Dembe, this is one of the best cooks I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Her name is Helga or Mrs. Schmidt."

"I'm pleased to meet you Dembe. I hope you are feeling better. I wasn't sure what you'd like to eat for breakfast so I made a bit of a variety. If there is anything you'd like me to make just let me know and I'll try to fix it for you." Helga said kindly.

"Thank you ma'am. I'm sure what you've made will be fine." Dembe answered nervously.

"Let me make a suggestion. I know you ate a little on the plane last night, but you might want to start with some eggs and toast. If you feel fine after that you can move on to the other items. I'm just afraid the meat might be too greasy for you after not eating regularly."

"Oh, dear. I didn't think about that at all. I could always make you some hot cereal if you want to try that instead." Helga said looking stricken at the thought of Dembe's poor treatment.

"Please don't go to any trouble. I'll try the eggs and toast first." Dembe assured her.

Red gestured for Helga to leave Dembe to him. It was apparent that Dembe was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by all the changes he's experienced in the last day. He walked over to serve himself from the waiting covered dishes. He held a second plate out so the boy could serve himself. Red wanted him to start feeling free to do what he wanted without waiting to be told what to do. He knew the boy had a lot of adjusting to do after being kept a prisoner for most of his young life.

"To continue our discussion from upstairs. My name is Raymond Reddington. Only the members of the household staff are aware of my true identity. To everyone in the village my name is Richard Douglas. I will try and explain everything while we eat. But, in answer to one of your original questions, you can call me either Raymond or Mr. Reddington. You can use whichever you are most comfortable using. All I ask that if anyone from outside the household is present make sure you call me Mr. Douglas. Do you understand? It's crucial you don't use the name Reddington in front of anyone outside of this household."

"Yes, sir I understand to use the name Mr. Douglas for anyone outside of the household. I don't understand why you use two names, but understand which one to use and when."

Dembe turned his attention to his plate and started to eat. After Red finished his plate he watched Dembe from the corner of his eye. He'd been reading a newspaper with his meal as was his habit. The boy had quickly finished his serving of eggs and toast, but he made no move to get a second helping. Red was interested to see if he was going to wait for Red's permission to get more. Dembe kept sneaking longing looks towards the remaining food. Red decided telling him he could have more if he wanted was more important than waiting for him to make the first move.

"If you'd like more you can get it whenever you'd like to." Red had barely finished speaking before Dembe was filling his plate again. This time he helped himself to both bacon and sausage.

Once Dembe has resumed his seat Red decided to explain who he was and how that tied into never using his real name in public.

"I'm not sure if you have any idea why I was in Nairobi. Let me try and explain it as best I can to you. I was there to facilitate an agreement between the Eberhardt and Mombasa cartels. I get paid to iron out the details or terms of a transaction and getting each side to agree to those terms. Are you with me so far?"

"I think so, if one cartel has something the other one wants you work on getting them to agree."

"That's right. Needless to say what I do is illegal. The police in a number of countries are hunting for me. This is the reason I am using an alias here and other places. If you slip up even once I could be caught and spend the rest of my life in jail. I'm trusting you to keep my secret. In return I will make sure you are taken care of, if you want to be returned to Sierra Leone I will arrange it. I will be leaving here in a few days on business. You have until then to choose between staying here with me or returning to your village."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - See Chapter 1.

The days passed quickly. On the night before Red was scheduled to leave he called Dembe into the library on the ground floor. The boy had spent the days exploring the house and grounds. He spent a lot of time in the kitchen with Helga and the maid. Red had been surprised to overhear him speaking with them in halting German. The boy seemed to have a knack for languages if her was speaking that much German after only a few days.

When Dembe reached the library Red motioned for him to take a seat in the chair across the desk from him. He was pleased to see that most of the bruises on his face and arms were starting to fade. With the exception of meals Red hadn't really spent any time with him. When Red had spoken to Charles about what Dembe was doing while Red was gone he was surprised to hear that Dembe had spent a great deal of time here in the library.

"Dembe as you know I leave tomorrow on business. I haven't asked for your decision before now to allow you to make your choice without any pressure from me. I think it's about time you are allowed to make decisions regarding your life and future. You've been forced to do too many things against your will. That stops now. What do you want to do Dembe? Do you want to stay with me or go back to Sierra Leone?" Red asked looking directly into Dembe's eyes.

Dembe found he still had trouble meeting Red's eyes. He'd discovered in talking with the household staff that the only people that knew about what he'd gone through was Charles and Helga. As far as everyone else knew he was an orphan that Red had befriended on his last trip to Africa. Knowing that his secret was safe he had felt comfortable enough to let his guard down around them. The story of being an orphan street kid could be used to explain away his shock at things everyone else in the house took for granted. For instance, he'd been shocked on the first day when he'd returned from breakfast to find a closet and dresser full of clothes all for him. Red had even had them pick up a variety of shoes for him to decide which he liked best. He'd never had more than a single change of clothes for years. It was almost overwhelming every morning trying to decide what to wear that day. He knew if he stayed with Red there would a lot more surprises, but he decided there were so many horrible things that could happen to him again if he decided to go back to Sierra Leone.

"I would like to stay with you. I still don't know what I can do to pay you back for everything you've done."

Red let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He would have arranged for Dembe to return to his village in Sierra Leone if that had been his choice. He didn't realize how much he was hoping that he was going to stay.

"When you are older you can decide what you feel you can or should do to repay me for what I've done. Or, you can decide to do nothing. It will always be up to you." Red paused briefly to allow Dembe to absorb what he'd just said. He never wanted Dembe to feel that he owed him anything.

Red continued, "The first thing I need to do is hire a tutor to travel with us until you are ready to attend school, if you want to do so."

Dembe wasn't sure he liked the idea of staying behind to attend school. He's only known Raymond for a short time, but he already felt safe in his presence. He appreciated that Raymond was leaving the choice to attend school or not up to him.

They boarded Red's jet early the next morning. Red had business to conduct in the U.S., but would require the parties to meet him in Canada instead. While Red was confident he could return to the U.S. without being caught, for these customers he wasn't going to take that chance. His customers were minor arms dealers and the business they needed his assistance with would only net him a few million dollars. What the dealers did not know is that once Red knew who their customer was he'd arranged for them to disappear. He would then conclude the deal with the customer directly. Red was ready to move from being only a middleman to being a dealer in both information and secrets, to an arms dealer.

Before they left Red discussed the need for a tutor with Charles. He instructed Charles to obtain the names and resumes of two potential tutors for him. Red trusted Charles to find the best tutors in the world for him to choose from. He only made a single specific request, the tutor must be multi-lingual. Red's thought was to encourage Dembe's natural gift for languages. Red himself spoke French almost fluently and could understand a few more. One of his biggest regrets was that he himself was not more fluent in more languages. He might use the tutor himself to solve this perceived personal failing.

Red had attended private schools. His education was something that he hadn't appreciated until he'd decided to try for Annapolis. He had needed excellent grades, but he also needed personal recommendations from his father's friends. It paid having an important, powerful man for a father. His father the general who sat in on the Joint Chiefs. His father wanted him to follow him to West Point, but Red didn't want to deal with the constant comparisons to his three-star general father. Red loved the ocean and took his sailboat out as often as possible. His choice of Annapolis was the only logical one he felt he could make for himself. His dad was unhappy, but he made sure Red was accepted.

After about two hours into the flight Red looked up from reading the background information on the two arms dealers he'd received from Newton Phillips when he boarded the plane. He was surprised that Dembe was handling the flight so calmly. On the flight from Africa to Germany he'd sat huddled in one of the leather seats barely moving until he finally fell asleep.

"Are you okay Dembe? Have you ever been on a plane before we flew to Germany?" Red asked genuinely interested.

Dembe looked up from the book he'd taken from the library in the house before they left. He was having difficulty with some of the words. He only had a chance to pick up a book, let alone any chance to sit and read one once or twice in the past few years. His captors seemed to want to keep all of them uneducated.

"That was my first ride on a plane. I figure I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure if there was any danger you wouldn't have gotten on the plane either." Dembe responded with a fourteen year olds unimpeachable logic.

"I suppose you are right. If I didn't trust my plane and pilots I wouldn't have gotten on." Red said with a rare smile. "Are you enjoying the book?"

Dembe dropped his eyes until he was looking at the floor of the plane. He was embarrassed to admit that he was having trouble reading the book. He'd chosen this book because he'd heard it was a classic from Charles and thought that meant everyone had read it but him.

"I'm having trouble with some of the words. I like what I've read so far."

Red was actually surprised to find out that he could read at all. He wasn't sure how much school he'd attended before he'd been taken and sold to the cartel.

"You may be tripped up by some of colloquialisms that Twain included in the story. When he wrote Tom Sawyer people spoke differently than they do now. Would you like me to help you with the words you don't know?" Red offered hoping that he wouldn't be offended by the offer.

Just as Red was thinking he didn't want his help Dembe spoke up, "If you are not too busy then I would appreciate your help very much."

Red motioned to Dembe to come sit next to him. They spent the next hour re-reading the first few chapters so Red could help him understand the words he'd skipped the first time through. He told Dembe after an hour that he would need to get back to the documents on the dealers. He was pleased to note that Dembe didn't need as much help as he thought. Before he sent Dembe off to read on his own again he took the time to teach him how to sound out the difficult words. He promised to pick up a dictionary for him to look up any words he didn't know.

There was a car waiting for them when the plane touched down at a little airstrip outside of Montreal. One of Red's associates would be driving them to a safe house nearby. He would also be staying with them and acting as Red's bodyguard during their stay. Red maintained a small staff of mercenaries on retainer that could be called in at a moments notice.

He was afraid with his reputation growing within the criminal world that he would soon need to have a bodyguard with him around the clock. There had already been a couple of attempts on his life. He'd made it a point to track down the would-be assassin and after some vigorous questioning into who had hired him, Red killed him. He made sure that everyone in the criminal world and the police knew exactly who'd pulled the trigger. He then took the information he'd obtained to track down and execute the men who put the hit out on him. These actions were a warning to anyone who might have considered an attempt of their own. This as much as his earlier crimes earned him a place on the FBI's ten most wanted list.

They loaded the trunk with their luggage and made the short drive to an exclusive neighborhood of large homes. There they were met by another member of Red's security force. He left the two muscular guards to deal with unloading the car and delivering their luggage to their rooms.

As soon as they entered the house they were met by the most delicious aroma that Dembe had ever smelt. It wasn't until now that he realized how hungry he felt. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might actually be drooling in anticipation. He found himself hungry most of the time, he thought it was due to being starved for a few days before Raymond's rescue. He thought it would stop after a few days of regular meals, but so far it was still a constant state. If he'd asked Raymond he would have been surprised and dismayed to hear that it would continue for a few more years. Raymond would have explained it away by saying it was due to his body's need for fuel to support all the growing he was going to experience.

Red and Dembe followed their noses to the large airy kitchen at the back of the house. They found a thin woman with dark hair and glasses just pulling a pan of freshly backed cornbread out of the oven. Red walked up to the woman with a smile. He gave her a hug before placing a friendly kiss on her cheek.

"Hello Kate. Is that your world class chili I smell?" Red asked as he lifted the lid covering a huge pot on the stove.

"Of course it is. I knew you would never speak to me again if I didn't have a pot of it waiting for your to arrive. Who is this?" Kate asked in a gruff voice.

Red had forgotten all about Dembe in his eagerness to check the contents of the pot. He turned to face Dembe before introducing him to Kate.

"Kate this is Dembe. I found him in the basement of the brothel I was forced to stay at in Nairobi while I dealt with some business. His family was killed nearly eight years ago by members of the Mombasa Cartel. He was only six years old. Since he didn't have any other relatives to send him to once I got him out of there, I offered to let him stay with me until he decides where he would like to live. Dembe this is a very dear friend of mine and she works for me. You can call her Mr. Kaplan unless she gives you permission to call her any other name." Red smiled at the confused look on Dembe's face. "Is there a problem Dembe?"

Kate didn't bother to try and explain her odd choice of name. She knew Red loved to tease the people he introduced her to, loved seeing the confused look on their faces.

"I'm sorry, but aren't misters men? Maybe I don't understand English as well as I thought." Dembe hoped he wasn't offending her with his question.

"Usually it is only men. In this case it is what she likes to be called. Her real last name is not Kaplan. Think of it as her alias, just as Richard Douglas is the alias I choose to use when I'm in Germany. You will discover that I have many different names. It helps keep the police from finding me." Red explained.

Dembe nodded his head to show he understood the explanation.

Kate decided to take pity on Dembe and told them to go freshen up before they sat down to eat. She would try and get the full story regarding Dembe from Red after the boy went to bed that night.

Both Red and Dembe returned in record time. Red had removed his suit jacket, tie and vest. He was still rolling up his sleeves when he entered the kitchen. Kate ladled her chili into two large bowls that she placed in front of Red and Dembe. After filling her own smaller bowl she joined them at the small table that sat in the corner of the kitchen.

While they ate Red confirmed with Kate that all was in readiness for the meeting set for the next day. Dembe ignored both of them in favor of shoveling the tasty chili into his mouth. He was soon scraping the bottom of the bowl. The scraping sound caused the other two to stop talking to look at him and his empty bowl.

"Looks like you could use a second helping. Help yourself." Kaplan told him, "As long as you save Raymond another bowl you can have as much as you like."

Dembe had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Go ahead Dembe. You have a lot of meals to make up."

"I received a list of potential tutors from Charles. He felt the first name on the list might be someone you'd recognize. Are you planning on interviewing them yourself or did you want me to meet with them so you can concentrate on your meeting with LaSalle and Boyle?"

"I'd like to know the first name from the list, but I do want you to meet them first. You need to make sure whoever you interview understands that we will be traveling three weeks out of every four. I'm not sure how you can judge whether they can be trusted to not go to the authorities. I hope the amount of money they will make working for me will be enough to keep them loyal. I'm rather insulted by the small reward they are offering for my capture. Anyway, when you've made your final decision I will meet with them. I'm assuming that Charles will have already done enough research into them that the two names will pass your approval as well. Once our business with LaSalle and Boyle is concluded our first customer will be meet with us in Haiti in ten days."

Later that evening Red held a final planning session with Kate and a former navy Seal named Anderson that had served under Red. Anderson was a direct link between Red and his growing army of mercenaries. The plan was simple. Anderson and his second in command, another former naval officer named Ward, would lead two teams to take out LaSalle and Boyle before they made it back to their headquarters after their meeting with Red. This would eliminate the competition and allow Red to prove he was nowhere near the location where the attacks occurred. He would have had no reason to attack them after the meeting was successfully concluded. This should give him deniability should anyone think to accuse him of their murder.

The next morning Red and Dembe took a trip to one of Red's favorite tailors. He'd lost a couple of suits during his recent trip through Africa. While they were there he commissioned a couple of suits for Dembe. Some of Red's favorite restaurants had a dress code. While the tutor could handle Dembe's traditional education, Red would handle introducing him to the finer things in life.

From there they went to the scheduled meeting. Red found it much quicker to deal with them since he really didn't care about the terms of the deal under discussion. They were on their way back to the safe house within an hour. The team dealt with LaSalle and Boyle shortly after they confirmed that Red was dining with Dembe at a local restaurant.

When they made it back to the house it was to find that Kate was off getting rid of any incriminating evidence. Red spent the rest of the evening in meetings to setup the recovery of the now deceased dealer's inventory. He would need to move everything to a warehouse he'd setup in Ireland. There was convenient access to both a private airfield and wharfs for shipping by boat.

Kate arrived back at the safe house some time during the night. She'd retrieved the bullets from the bodies, but by Red's orders she'd arranged to leave the bodies where they would be found the next day. He felt that if the bodies were not found he would be blamed. Both men had enough enemies that Red would just be one of many suspects.

Red and Dembe were scheduled to fly out this morning. They were returning to Germany long enough to pick up the documents Dembe would need to prove that he was the son of one of Red's friends. The documents were forged of course, forged by the best forgers that money could buy. Red also had to pick up documents for a couple of other customers at the same time. A couple of mid-level mafia types had come to the attention of a rival family. If they didn't disappear as soon as possible they would soon disappear in a more permanent fashion. As soon as they retrieved the documents they would fly out to hand deliver the documents. One would be delivered to a hotel in Mexico City and to another hotel in New York City. By the time they were done he hoped Kate had finished her interviews of the potential tutors.

"Kate, I hope you didn't have to work too late last night. I've already received word that the bodies have been found and the police were called." Red greeted her as she entered the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee.

"It wasn't too late. After I retrieved the bullets Anderson's group took care of dropping the bodies where they'd be found. Then they were heading to track down all your new merchandise. Are you still flying out today?" Kate asked while slurping down half of the mug she just poured for herself.

"We are getting ready to head to the airport now. I wanted to get the name from Charles before I left."

"Oh, right. Here is the list he sent over." Kate said as she dug around in her massive bag before pulling out a sheet of paper.

Red took the list from her and glanced down at the two names. He gave a smile when he read the first name.

"Thomas Bealmer, that is a name from the past. He was my English teacher at Phillips Academy. Interview him first. See if he's heard about one of his former students turned traitor. I really like him. He was one of my better teachers and he traveled during a lot during the summer break. If I remember correctly he was fluent in two or three different languages. He'd be perfect if he's willing to overlook my colorful history."


	4. Chapter 4

Dislaimer - I still don't own the Blacklist or its characters. Could someone fix that for me?

A/N I'd like to thank everyone for their kind reviews. I'm happy that you all seem to like this story. Cait thank you for your encouraging reviews. You mention the lack of reviews for this story. All I can think is that, a) Dembe's back story is not an interesting storyline for most readers or b) the readers think if they can't say something nice they will just not say anything.

A/N 2 - I know I said I'd be posting updates daily, but between the new episode last night, work being a nightmare and the fact that I'm editing this while I type it up, it took longer than I thought to get this chapter ready to be published. My best guess is that there will be another chapter, possibly two before it's done.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Red's new line of business was gaining new customers at a rapid pace. Dembe lost track of the number of countries they visited. He found himself falling into a routine he wouldn't have believe before Red's rescue. On the days they spent flying from one end of the globe to another he would gather a stack of books from whichever safe house they'd been using and take them with him on the plane. It seemed that Red had a safe house in every country on Earth. He found the more he read the easier it was becoming for him to understand the words he had trouble with previously.

They were flying to Ireland today and they were going to be spending an entire week while dealing with matters both personal and professional. To prevent the loss of all of his small and large firearms inventory, the stock being held in Ireland would be divided between two other warehouses. There was a new warehouse in Brazil what would service customers in South America and another in the Philippines that would be used for Asia and Middle Eastern customers.

Mr. Kaplan had arranged for the two tutor candidates to be flown into Ireland. Red would be meeting the first candidate that very evening. Once Red had completed his interviews Dembe would be given his own chance to ask them any questions he might have for them. Dembe asked Red what type of questions he should ask them.

"I'm not sure to be honest. My main reason for wanting you to speak with them is to see if you are comfortable with one or both of them. You will be spending a great deal of time with them and you need to, if not like them, at least trust them to provide you with a good education." Red explained to him on the flight.

Red left Dembe at the safe house while he met with Mr. Lloyd. Mr. Lloyd had been employed for a number of years at Eton. He had worked teaching math but also held private tutoring sessions in a variety of other subjects. He was fluent in three languages in addition to English. Red suspected that Kate had passed him through to him just to give him an alternative to Mr. Bealmer. Kate would be flying Mr. Bealmer into Dublin the next day.

The pub that was being used as the meeting site was a typical pub. Dark wood, beamed ceilings, frosted glass in the windows. The room was filled with cigarette smoke and the aroma of fish and chips. He looked around the room trying to locate the men that accompanied Mr. Lloyd from the waterfront where the ferry had docked.

One of his men met Red a few feet from the corner booth where they were assured enough privacy for their discussion. After giving the man his drink order he slipped into the booth on the opposite side from Lloyd.

"Mr. Lloyd, I am John Fitzsimmons. Thank you for agreeing to meet me so late. I'm assuming you have been apprised of some of the more unique challenges of the position?" Red said deciding to get right to the point.

"Yes when I interviewed over the phone I was informed you had a young gentleman in need of a full time tutor." Lloyd responded with a posh English accent

"You were also informed that there would be extensive travel involved? The nature of my business requires that I spend more time traveling than not. Will that cause you any problems? You don't have any health issues that would prevent you from spending time in third world countries?"

Red already knew that he had a bad heart. Mr. Kaplan had obtained both of the candidates medical records. Lloyd was the only one that had any health issues that could cause problems if they flared up when in semi-primitive conditions. He was interested to see if Lloyd would admit to any problems.

"I was informed that there would be a lot of travel involved, but not to as to what the conditions would be like where we would be visiting. Does the young man need to travel with you?"

"He will be with me for the foreseeable future. He is experiencing some emotional issues due to the loss of his family. It has been recommended that I keep him with me until those issues have resolved themselves." Red decided to fudge Dembe's fear of being separated from him a bit. He wondered how much experience Lloyd had dealing with students with emotional issues at Eton.

"While I believe traveling the world is a great addition to a traditional education, I believe a child needs a stable environment to encourage learning." Lloyd said stiffly.

With that answer Lloyd's name was crossed off the very short list of potential tutors. Red asked a few more general questions before bringing the interview to a close. Red found himself looking forward to his meeting with his former teacher. He hoped that Bealmer would be more willing to take on a non-traditional student. Whoever he ended up hiring would need to be informed of some of Dembe's history. The full story would have to come from Dembe, it would never be Red's story to tell.

The next day Red took Dembe with him to Dublin. He would wait at a coffee shop down the street from the restaurant where the interview would take place over lunch. If all went well Dembe would join them for dessert.

When Red walked into the restaurant it was fairly empty. It was between the lunch and dinner rushes and this was one reason he chose to meet at this time. He noticed that Mr. Bealmer was seated at Red's usual table. As he walked to the table he noted the changes in his former teacher's appearance. In the fifteen years that had passed since he'd last seen the man, his hair had thinned and was peppered with grey. The laugh lines creasing his face were even more pronounced.

"Mr. Bealmer it is good to see you again. I hope the flight over wasn't too rough." Red said shaking his had and taking a seat across the table from Bealmer.

"The flight was fine. I've never flown on a private plane before; I'll hate flying commercial again." Bealmer paused while trying to place a name to the somewhat familiar face sitting across from him. "The woman I spoke to a few weeks ago mentioned that you were one of my students at Phillips Academy. She didn't give me your name and I can tell that it's been a number of years since I was your teacher. Would you mind telling me your name?"

Red knew that the question had been inevitable and he'd tried to decide what the best answer would be to give him. He decided to indulge himself a bit to see if he could jar Bealmer's memory a bit.

"It's been about fifteen years since I graduated. You were one of my favorite teachers. We used to spend a large portion of our private tutoring sessions discussing almost anything but my school work. You wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation for Annapolis. Does this ring any bells?" Red could tell when recognition dawned.

"Raymond Reddington. I knew how much you and your father wanted you to be accepted to Annapolis. I was happy to hear that you made it in. Needless to say, I was shocked to hear about the crimes you are accused of committing. That would be the very last thing I expected to hear about you. Something truly horrible must have happened to you to make you turn your back on the country your father spent so many years serving."

"I had good reasons for my actions, but don't expect me to share those reasons with you." Red responded coldly. He didn't care for the overtone of judgment that colored Bealmer's words.

Bealmer recognized that he may have gone too far. He may not have spent a lot of time in the company of dangerous men, but he instinctively recognized that his former student was a very dangerous man.

"You are right, I don't know why it happened, but you never did anything without a good reason. I understand you are looking to hire a private tutor for a young man. Is it your son?"

"No he's not any relation to me. His family was killed by a local warlord that the father had reported to the police. He was forced to leave school due to their murders. He hasn't had any formal education since he was six. He's able to read, write and speak excellent English. He seems to have a knack for languages and I want to encourage him to develop that gift. He seems in my unprofessional opinion to be very bright."

Bealmer nodded his head slightly after hearing this, it explained the requirement that whoever was hired would need to speak more than just English.

"I understand the need to be multi-lingual now. Have you had any type of assessment done to determine what his grade level might be? It would help in determining what textbooks and lesson plans would need to be purchased and planned respectively." Bealmer explained.

"No I thought I'd leave that to a professional educator. What I can tell you is that he devours books. He reminds me a bit of myself at his age." Red replied with a smile.

They talked for another hour before Red sent one of his bodyguards to get Dembe. He was comfortable with the answers he'd received to all of his questions so far. Travel was not going to be an issue. Now all he needed was Dembe to meet with Bealmer. If Dembe approved, the discussion could move on to salary.

After introducing Dembe to Bealmer Red retired to the restaurant bar to give them privacy. He was fairly certain Dembe would get along with Bealmer. He remembered the long hours after school that he'd spent talking to him about so many subjects. If for some reason Dembe didn't give him his approval Red would need a backup plan. He didn't have a clue what that plan was at the moment.

It was only a short while later that Dembe sought him out. Red had to admit to himself that he had a very hard time getting a read on what the boy was feeling and thinking most of the time. He was the very definition of enigmatic. He was always calm and quiet, nothing seemed to surprise or worry him. Red himself had trouble at times to project that same sense of control.

"How did the meeting go? It didn't last very long." Red asked him.

Dembe sat next to Red before answering him.

"He seems like a decent man. If you like him I'm willing to give him a chance."

Red gave Dembe a smile. He really was glad that Dembe was willing to accept his choice of tutors. He felt that Dembe would be in good hands with Bealmer. He motioned for the boy to follow him back to where Bealmer was still seated.

"It appears that you have impressed Dembe enough that he would like me to hire you. Now, this is where I ask you a question that you have to answer here and now. In exchange for an obscene amount of money per year are you willing to risk arrest and prosecution if you are caught in my company?" Red asked seriously.

"Before I answer your question I have one of my own. How much do you consider an obscene amount of money? If I'm going to risk life in prison it will definitely need to be an OBSCENE amount of money." Bealmer stated.

Red gave a chuckle in response to his very direct question. He'd learned by experience that some people's loyalty had to be bought. The fact that Bealmer had asked the question didn't surprise him. Bealmer had complained to him often when he was in school that he was underpaid and felt he deserved much more to deal with all the privileged teenagers sent there by absentee parents.

"Every six months a deposit of one million dollars will be deposited in a Swiss bank account opened in your name. You will have an expense account for miscellaneous expenses. All travel and lodging expenses will be borne by me. Does that qualify as an obscene amount of money?"

The look of shock on Bealmer's face could not be faked. Red knew this was more than he expected to be offered. It should be enough to buy his loyalty. He placed a bet with himself that Bealmer was going to counter with a higher number. If that happened his old teacher was going to learn that he didn't negotiate unless it was the only way for him to get what he wanted.

"That is an incredible amount of money. Would it be available for me to withdraw at anytime after it's deposited?" Bealmer asked after the shock cleared a bit.

That wasn't a question that Red expected, but he understood it. If he could withdraw it at any time he could move it somewhere Red couldn't retrieve it.

"After the money is deposited it's yours to do with as you please. Now, is the salary discussion complete?"

Bealmer didn't have the same poker face as Red. All of his thoughts were there on his face for Red to read. He could see the tug of war going on behind the man's eyes.

"How long would you be needing my services?" Bealmer asked.

So, he's trying to figure out how much money he stood to accumulate before he wasn't needed any longer Red thought to himself.

"I think Dembe here is going to prove to be a bright student. Even with him missing eight years of formal study, I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to learn enough to graduate at eighteen. He's fourteen now, that would mean at least four years of your services, unless he decides he wants to attend a normal school We will need to play that by ear. That decision will always be up to him. I'm assuming you will be able to provide him with a diploma of some kind that he could use if he decides he wants to enroll in a university."

"Yes, I can provide him with whatever he would need to move on to a college or university. With that understanding I agree to your offered salary." Bealmer said as he relaxed back into his chair.

"Good, I'm glad you agreed. Now, the first requirement is that you will need to leave with us tonight. I will have one of my men go to your hotel and pack your things. Do you have any problems with that?" Red ask trying to see if he was flexible enough to drop everything at a moment's notice.

"What am I supposed to do with my house, car and everything else I have back home in Boston?"

Okay, Red had to admit that was a valid concern. He also knew he had to make sure Bealmer didn't have a chance to change his mind and contact the police. Bealmer was going to have to earn his trust.

"We can make arrangements to have your house packed up and your items put into storage. Do you own or rent?" Red asked without really caring one way or another. He didn't have a permanent home, e-mail address, or any traceable phone. He tells himself that he doesn't miss having one place to call home. Most of the time he believed that he didn't care, but there were times that he did in fact miss the home he shared with his wife and daughter.

"I only rent. If you could have everything put into storage that would be fine Where will be going tonight?" Bealmer ask, curiosity seeming to flow out of every pore in his body.

"We will be heading to a house a friend has lent me for a few days. We will be flying out tomorrow morning. Before we leave the restaurant tonight you will hand the gentleman behind you your cell phone and wallet. They will be held until you are no longer employed by me." Red told him in a tone that left no room for argument.

Without a word Bealmer pulled his phone and wallet out of his jacket. He pushed them over to Red who motioned to one of his men to take them.

"I'm sure you've already thought about this, but what am I supposed to show if I'm asked for an ID?" Bealmer asked nervously.

Red smirked slightly at the note of uncertainty that he detected in his old teacher. If he hadn't shown any signed of nerves he would have been concerned that just maybe he'd been sold out. No one should make this type of life change without fear.

"Not to worry, we'll provide you with all the paperwork you'll need. Let's go, we have a bit of a drive to make." Red said as he stood up from the table. He lead the way outside where two large black SUVs were waiting.

Dembe climbed into the front passenger seat leaving the backseat for Red and Bealmer. During the drive Red asked Bealmer a few questions about what lead him to leave the school he had spent so many years at, molding young minds. It appeared to be a combination of the frustration dealing with more and more insolent students, uncaring parents and poor pay.

When they finally arrived back at the safe house Red let Dembe show his new tutor to his room for the night. Red told them both in the car that they would be leaving for the airport 5:00 am to make his meeting. When Bealmer asked what their destination would be he was told that he would learn that information on the plane like everyone else making the trip. Bealmer was quickly learning that Red had changed from that quiet studious, but generally friendly kid he'd been, into a dangerous, untrusting man.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer - I still don't own the Blacklist. If I did everyone would know without a doubt that Red is not Lizzie's father, uncle, brother or mother (there are some really outlandish theories out there).

Bealmer's first flight was an eye opener. Once they were in the air Red had told the pilot to fly to Istanbul Turkey. He learned just how easy it is for a private plane to cross a country's border without being noticed. His concern of not being able to present proof of his identity proved baseless. There was no custom official at the tiny private airfield to prevent them from slipping away into the countryside.

While Red and his security detail drove off to his meeting Bealmer, Dembe and a couple of bodyguards that had met the plane, went to a nearby shopping mall. Bealmer needed to purchase enough clothes to last a few days longer than the couple changes of clothing he'd packed for his trip to meet with Red. They spent a good amount of time at a bookstore with a large English language section collecting some books to be used as school texts temporarily. Bealmer would have actual textbooks ordered once he finished Dembe's assessment. They had done some tests on the plane to determine his ability to read and write English and a range of math problems to solve. He was pleasantly surprised by how well the boy had done. Red was right when he said Dembe was bright.

Red was back from his meeting by the time they returned to the airport. He waved them over to the stairs leading to the plane.

"I hope you got everything you need for a few days. We'll be spending a great deal of time on the plane for the next five or six days."

With that said they all piled back into the plane and were soon over open water. Their next stop was another private airfield, this one was deep in the Italian countryside. The plane was again met by a car and a handful of men acting as his security detail. Red took two of his security detail with him and left instructions for everyone else to stay in the hangar. Within two hours Red had returned and they were soon airborne again.

This became their routine for the next few months. Bealmer saw more of the world than he'd ever expected to when he accepted the job. Sometimes unfortunately he didn't get to see much of the country they were visiting, they had to wait at the airport while Red conducted his business.

Red's reputation for facilitating and brokering deals was growing exponentially. He was amused by the nickname that he'd been given, they were starting to call him the Concierge of Crime. He didn't really care for criminal nicknames, but if it helped bring business his way he could live with it.

About six months after that first flight, proof that Red's line of business was a dangerous one was provided to them all.

What should have been a simple meeting between Red and an Afghani war lord went as bad as it was possible to go. One of the war lord's representatives had opened fire on the group in a bid to overthrow his boss. It was only by the sacrifice of one of his bodyguards that kept Red and the others from being killed. They made it back to the plane and were out of the country before the full impact of what happened hit them all.

While Red had experienced this type of encounter before this was a first for both Dembe and Bealmer. Dembe's response was to approach Red's remaining bodyguards and ask to learn how to defend himself and by extension Red. With Red's approval self-defense and weapon training was added to his school schedule. If Red had time he taught Dembe's self-defense lessons, otherwise Newton Phillips, who had recently been assigned as Red's assistant lead them.

Bealmer on the other hand was demanding to be left behind when any of these types of meetings took place. Red informed him that he would continue to travel with them unless Dembe chose to be left behind as well. This effectively put Dembe in charge of his safety. With Dembe still unwilling to be separated from Red for more than a night they continued to accompany Red to him meetings held around the world.

Red had always left it up to Dembe to decide when or if Bealmer was told anything about his life before Red's appearance in that basement. A year after his first meeting with Bealmer Dembe decided it was time. The decision was hastened a bit by a visit to one of the Mombasa Cartel's bases to negotiate a deal to sell some small arms to the group. Red was against the idea, but the syndicate he had formed with a small group of other men wanted the deal made.

Red pulled Dembe aside the night before he left for his flight to a small remote village that Mombasa was using as their base of operations. He told Dembe that we wouldn't be traveling with him. He let Dembe protest, but was adamant that he wasn't going to let anyone from the Mombasa cartel close to him. He did make him a promise that one day he would find the leader of the cartel and will make him pay for the death of Dembe's family and his own enslavement and abuse.

The next morning when Dembe met with Bealmer for his lessons Bealmer was surprised to hear that Red had left without them. Dembe explained why Red made the decision that he did. He explained without going into too much detail of what happened to his family at the hands of the same cartel that Red was now with making an arms deal. Then he told him of the eight years he'd spent in the hands of first the Mombasas and then the Eberhardts. He told him of the years of physical and sexual abuse; and that Red had rescued him from certain death.

He explained that he still only felt safe when Red was around. However, he was slowly coming to realize that he wasn't that terrified child who couldn't fight back. The lessons with Red and his bodyguards were starting to give him confidence that he could defend himself and others if he needed to do so.

It was during one of those training sessions that Bealmer saw a horrible scar on his right shoulder that looked like it had been literally carved into his back. He'd asked Red about it and he told him to ask Dembe about it if he really wanted to know. Now he understood Red's reluctance to discuss Dembe's past.

After he finished his story Bealmer sat there silently for a very long time. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this was a far darker story that he'd expected. He couldn't imagine such a young child being subjected to the horrors Dembe had experienced. He was surprised Dembe didn't have some type of mental issues due to the trauma from everything he'd been through. Dembe was the calmest, quietest teenager that he'd ever taught. It did explain the feeling that Bealmer often got that Dembe was far older than fifteen. He seemed more like fifteen going on thirty-five.

When Red returned two days later Bealmer told him that Dembe had shared his history with him. He also told him that he thought Red should consider getting Dembe some psychological counseling even if he wasn't showing any obvious signs of distress.

"For the life of me I don't understand this need to pay a stranger to listen to your problems and to offer advice. As if Dembe talking to some shrink who's never experienced any type of trauma of their own, would ever be able to understand what he's been through." Red sneered. "I've spent many nights waking him up from nightmares where he's screaming in fear and begging not to be hurt anymore. The nightmares have eased up recently. I have spent hours listening to him when he wanted to talk about it. I don't see what else a psychiatrist can do that I'm not already doing."

Bealmer had spent enough hours with Red by this point and recognized when a subject was closed.

Years passed and Dembe grew into a tall, strong young man. With only a couple of months left until Dembe would be leaving to attend university. Both he and Red were trying to enjoy their last few trips together. Bealmer had left a couple of months earlier and many millions of dollars richer.

They had one last business trip to make before they headed off for a long overdue vacation. Red had let Dembe choose the vacation spot and true to form he chose something he knew Red would love. He chose to sail around the Mediterranean for a few weeks.

Red had a meeting setup with a group of local militia from Sierra Leone and not wanting to take Dembe back there he set the location of the meeting in Marrakech. From there it would be a short flight to Malta where they would be boarding a private yacht for their vacation. While Red would have loved a sail boat instead of the yacht he couldn't argue that the yacht would be much, much more comfortable.

Dembe was acting as Red's driver for this trip. He'd learned to drive in various countries and cities around the world. He could drive comfortably in well monitored and orderly cities and just as easily in the barely controlled chaos of third world countries. Over the past year he had made his choice of what he wanted to do with his life. If Red would have him, he would work with Red in whatever capacity he needed. Bealmer had spent months trying to get him to change his mind. He'd told Dembe that he didn't have the ruthlessness that was needed to survive in Red's world. While Red agreed with Bealmer somewhat, he did nothing to change Dembe's mind. For Red the reason for this was simple, out of all his closest associates Dembe was the only one he trusted to always remain loyal. The closest he would get to trying to change his mind, was to insist the Dembe leave to earn a degree. He was going to be attending the university that Red had wanted to attend himself, Harvard. Between Dembe's grades, a number of glowing recommendation letters and a sizable donation from Red had assured his acceptance.

Today's meeting was taking place at a popular nightclub before the club opened to the public. It should be a short meeting as all of the tedious back and forth haggling over price and payment details were completed. This meeting was taking place for only two reasons, for Red it was the transfer of funds into one of the syndicates many bank accounts before he handed over the delivery instructions. For the militia it was proof that they were really dealing with Reddington. There was some concern on their part that they may be dealing with an imposter. They refused to pay until they confirmed his involvement.

Dembe pulled to the curb in front of the club. He looked around the area to see if there was anything to be concerned with before he let Red exit the car. This bit of caution had become habit after a couple of incidents before and after other meetings. They had survived both attempts, but not without being injured. Neither injury was serious, but there were scars left behind.

The fact that Dembe didn't see the rest of Red's security team which should have been in place around the club didn't concern him. They wouldn't be very effective if they were easily spotted.

Red had a new associate with him. His name is a Anslo Garrick. Dembe knew that Red was assigning Garrick to handle all syndicate business on the African continent while Red was away on their cruise. This would be Garrick's chance to prove to Red and the syndicate that he was ready for more responsibility. Their syndicate was growing rapidly and Red and his three partners were running themselves ragged trying to keep up with the demands of their expanding empire.

The meeting went well and they were on the way back to the airport shortly after mid-day. Red, Dembe and a small two man security detail would fly with them to Malta. In the past couple of years they'd started carrying a security detail when traveling to remote areas where Red didn't have anyone on retainer. They had never traveled to Malta before and didn't have any security men on the island.

Red and Anslo stood outside the hangar discussing final items that needed to be handled over the next three weeks when he would be out of contact. Red felt that Anslo had potential and hoped that his faith was rewarded.

Dembe was just on his way back outside to tell Red that the plane was ready for departure when he heard the sound of gunfire. By the time he and the security team made their way outside, Red was down on the ground bleeding heavily. Anslo who had also been hit managed to move them both behind the parked car. No more shots were fired at the men who raced over to the wounded men.

Dembe's first concern was making sure that Red was protected from any further injury. He told the two guards to carry Red into the hangar while he provided cover fire. The guards were able to get Red into the hangar without any problems and Anslo was able to follow them under his own power.

Dembe ran over to where Red was laying unmoving on the ground. He felt for a pulse on his neck and he felt nothing. He then checked for any signs of breathing and again he found nothing. He snapped an order to one of the guards to grab the portable defibrillator off the plane. While the guard ran to obey Dembe's order he grabbed the hangar's first aid kit and ripped open packages of gauze. He ordered the other guard to press the gauze down on the wound in Red's upper chest. All Dembe could hope was that the bullet had missed any vital organs.

Edward the pilot of Red's private plane ran to Dembe and told him he'd already contacted a local doctor on the syndicate's payroll. He was on the way to the airport and would be there as soon as possible. Dembe didn't give voice to the thought running through his head that he hoped Red was still alive when he arrived.

Dembe learned first aid and CPR from the various doctors, mercenaries and, of course, Mr. Kaplan through years of observation. This was not the first time Raymond had been injured over the years. He started to perform CPR while he waited for the defibrillator to arrive. As soon as the guard arrived he ordered him to turn it on, but never stopped his life saving efforts except to check for a pulse. As soon as the machine had achieved the correct charge he applied the conductive gel to each paddle and rubbed them together.

"Get his shirt open." He said to the guard not currently trying to stem the flow of blood. The guard ripped his shirt open and stepped back.

"Clear!" Dembe called out in warning for the guard to move his hands away from Red before pressing the paddles to his chest. He pressed the button to send the electrical charge to Red's heart. He motioned for the guard to check for a pulse. The guard shook his head to show there was still no pulse.

"Clear!" he called out again and Red jerked again in response to the jolt from the paddles. The guard checked for a pulse again with no luck. Dembe was beginning to feel panicked. It was nearly two minutes since his heart stopped. Soon they would need to worry about possible brain damage due to lack of oxygen.

"Clear!" he called out once again. The guard immediately checked for his pulse without an order from Dembe. Dembe was hoping against hope that this time he'd find it. And, finally, there it was, the guard nodding his head with a small smile to show that he felt his pulse beating. The guard didn't say it was faint, the only important thing is that it was there.

Moments later the doctor rushed into the hangar. He quickly knelt next to Red on the ground and he looked at the machine lying discarded to the side.

"Did his heart stop?" he asked Dembe.

"Yes, I had to use the machine three times before it started again. What do you need us to do?" Dembe responded showing more emotion that anyone had seen from him before.

"Is there a table or desk in the office? We need to get him off the ground so I can work on him. Someone get my supplies out of the car. I have blood for transfusing him in the cooler." the doctor ordered.

One of the guards ran out to his car and grabbed everything he could carry. He followed Dembe and the other guard as they carried Red into the small office in the back corner of the hangar. Edward ran ahead to clear everything off the desk before they got there, he swept everything on to the floor in his haste.

As soon as Red was placed on the desk the doctor was cutting his shirt up each sleeve to remove it. He moved the gauze off of the wound to examine the extent of the damage. He rolled him on his side long enough to check for an exit wound. When he didn't find one he knew he would need to get the bullet out fast. With Dembe's assistance the doctor was able to extract the bullet and get him sewn up in little more than an hour. He was pleased that Red's heart had not stopped again. His only concern now was the length of time he'd technically been dead. The doctor wouldn't be able to determine if there was any brain damage until he woke up.

After the doctor finished with Red he treat Anslo's wound, which was minor compared to the injury Red had suffered. Once Anslo was patched up he left in the company of one of his men stating he'd check in with the syndicate in a couple of days to see what their status was at that time.

Putting Red on a plane with this severe an injury wouldn't have been the doctor's first choice, but after consulting with Mr. Kaplan it was decided it would be safer for Red to get out of the country as soon as possible.

They carried Red on the plane and set him upright in one of the leather seats. They reclined the seat slightly and raised the foot rest to make him more comfortable. The doctor then improvised an IV pole to hang the bags of blood and fluids that were being used to replace the massive amounts that he'd lost.

After Red was settled everyone else including the doctor piled onboard. They were soon airborne at last. After Edward announced that they were out of Moroccan airspace Dembe moved to the cockpit to give the pilot a new destination. Kaplan had told Dembe to not give out their ultimate destination until they were in the air. There had been only a handful of people in Red's organization that knew his plans to fly in and out of that particular airport. Until they located the leak he'd been instructed to not trust anyone on the plane but Edward.

"Edward we are going to go to the safe house in Germany. Mr. Kaplan will meet us there. She said she would call ahead to let Charles know that we will be arriving in about four hours. He will have everything in order for our arrival." Dembe felt odd giving the pilot orders. Edward was twice his age, but didn't show any problems in taking orders from him. Anyone in Red's inner circle knew better than to question Dembe's requests or orders. Red had made it clear that an order from Dembe was to be treated as an order from Red himself.

Dembe returned to the plane's cabin and took the seat across from Red. He wanted to know immediately when he started to regain consciousness. He'd seen Red recovering from wounds before, sometimes severe ones, but his time was different, Red had actually died however briefly.

They were over half-way to their destination before Red began to stir. He tried moving to a more comfortable position in his seat, but stopped moving as soon as a jolt of pain shot through his chest. He gave a low moan of pain and he tried to open his eyes but they seemed to weigh a ton. He kept trying and was finally able to pry them open. The first thing he saw was a very worried looking Dembe.

"Hey," Red managed to croak out. His throat was so very dry.

"Raymond don't move. The doctor wants you to stay as still as possible." He beckoned the doctor over to them from his seat near the rear of the plane.

"Mr. Reddington you gave all of us a bit of a scare. Your heart actually stopped for two and half minutes. I want to ask you a few questions to determine if there are any issues related to your heart stopping. Are you ready?" the doctor asked.

Red gave a weary nod in agreement. He realized now why Dembe looked so worried.

"Ok, first question; what is your name?"

"Since you just called me Mr. Reddington I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it's Reddington, and before you ask it's Raymond Reddington."

"Good. Now, do you know what day it is today?"

"It's June 26, 1995." Red answered promptly.

"Good, you are two for two. Do you know who the president of the United States is?"

"Bill Clinton."

"Ok, one last question. Do you remember what happened to you a few hours ago?"

"I was standing outside of the hangar where my plane was waiting to take us to Malta when I was shot. What happened after that I don't know. That was the last thing I remember before waking up here."

"It sounds like you are processing information correctly and able to answer questions without any confusion. Give me a number between one, meaning no pain whatsoever, and ten, the worst pain you've ever felt."

Red considered lying and put his level at a one. But, since he was on his own plane without any enemies that he knew about he gave an honest answer.

"It's about a seven when I'm not making any movement, such as breathing. It's a nine the rest of the time." Red admitted.

The doctor nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement of Red's admission. He moved back to his seat to grab his bag that contained vials of antibiotics and pain killers. He injected a dose of morphine into his IV line and he waited next to Red's seat until his eyes fluttered closed again.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N This is the final chapter. I hope if you've enjoyed this you'll leave me a review, be it good or bad. I would love to hear from you.

Red didn't wake up until they were back in his safe house. He'd managed to sleep through their landing and being loaded into the private ambulance that Mr. Kaplan had arranged to meet the plane. She supervised the transfer of Red from the plane to the safe house. She wanted to make sure he wasn't jostled too much. Luckily the trip to the safe house was a short one.

"Carry him up to his room. I'll examine him once he's settled." Kaplan ordered the attendants and guards.

She left Red and the men helping to carry him to his room in Charles's very capable hands. When Dembe made to follow the stretcher she held him back with a firm grasp on his forearm.

"Wait a moment Dembe. I need to speak to you while they are getting him settled." Kaplan said quietly, but firmly.

Dembe stopped and waited impatiently for her to continue. He wanted, no needed, to get back to Red. He knew that nothing would happen to him if he wasn't there, but he wasn't thinking very clearly at the moment.

"I've heard what happened at the airport from both Edward and his two bodyguards, Alan and Dan. They all agree that they had no reason to suspect a shooter was there. This is not your fault." Kaplan told him.

"I know that, but I can't help feeling that I let him down. He almost died." Dembe said miserably.

"I can guarantee that he will not feel that way. No matter how much you've learned from him and his other guards, **you** are not his bodyguard. You are his friend. Now, obviously he won't be able to take that vacation with you, but I know he will want you to go off to college as planned."

As much as Dembe would like to argue that this isn't what Red would want, he knew that it was exactly what he wanted for Dembe. He wanted him to experience something of the college life that Red himself experienced. While Red's college years were very different from what was awaiting Dembe, it would still teach him independence and allow him to learn to make friends outside of Red's associates. Red had told him many stories over the years of what Annapolis had been like for him, balancing his school work with his naval training that took place both on land and at sea.

"I know he wants me to go. If he's able to get up and about on his own by the time I'm scheduled to fly out to Boston I'll go. If he's not mobile by then I'm not going anywhere."

His compromise was better than she could have hoped for from him. She feared that they were going to have to drug him and load him on to the plane for Boston. Not that she didn't think Red would be up and about in three weeks, she just knew Dembe would use this as an excuse to stay by Red's side.

"Let's go up and see how thy are faring with the world's worst patient." Kaplan motioned Dembe to follow her up the stairs.

Luckily for everyone involved that when the time came for Dembe to leave, Red was recovered enough to get out of bed and resume conducting his business. He was forced to do it over the phone instead of face to face, but he was still able to prove to the criminal world that he was still alive and well. Since he wasn't able to travel yet he was forced to give Anslo more responsibility in making deals than he was comfortable at this point. He would either sink or swim and if he sank it would be with a bullet in his head.

Dembe boarded the plane to take him to a new life away from Red and the world he'd grown comfortable in. The only reason he agreed to go was because he trusted Red's feelings on the matter. He would be back on holidays and school breaks, meeting up with Red in whatever city he was in at the time.

In only a few weeks Dembe was settled into college life. He found that he was actually enjoying his classes and he was making friends that he hung out with after class and on the weekends.

His college life ended after what seemed to be a very short four years. He graduated magna cum laude with a BA in English literature. Sitting in the family section of the university's auditorium was Red. He sat proudly watching Dembe walk across the stage to accept his diploma and golden cord that signified that he earned his degree with honors.

After the graduation ceremony was over Red took Dembe out to a celebratory dinner. As they ate Dembe shared stories of what he'd been doing since their last visit. He waited until dessert to discuss what he'd decided he wanted to do with his life. He wasn't sure if Red would agree with his choice, but he knew it was what he wanted.

"Raymond I've been thinking about what I wanted to do next." Dembe started in his normal quiet rumble.

"What have you decided to do with your literature degree?" Red asked with a smile.

Dembe didn't return his smile. He was so nervous he wasn't able to smile. He didn't think he'd even been this nervous when he'd first met Red.

"I'd like to come work for you. You keep saying that there are so few people around you that you trust. You know you'll always be able to trust me."

Red would really love to have him with him, but he also wanted him to experience more of a life away from him and his influence. He didn't want to dominate Dembe's life the way he'd done for years after rescuing him.

"What would you do if I said you could work for me, but only after you waited two years?" Red paused to gauge his reaction before continuing, "Have you given any thought about doing anything else with your life?"

"Why do you want me to wait? I don't understand what another two years away from you will do for me. My decision has been made." Dembe said showing a determination that Red had rarely seen before the boy went off to college.

"You haven't spent much time doing something you really want to do in your life. The closest you have come is during your years here in school. We both know you only went to college because I wanted you to go. I want you to take two years and do whatever you decide you want to do. You know you don't have to worry about money. You can do whatever you want to do. Outside of working for me I bet you haven't seriously thought of anything else that you want to do." Red said seriously. After a pause he continued, "Dembe you don't owe me anything for saving your life, most of all you don't owe me a life of servitude in working for me. If you want to come work for me after experiencing life a bit more, I will be happy for you to join me."

As much as Dembe would like to argue further with Red, he could see Red's point. He'd spent years living and traveling the world with Red before leaving for college, at Red's insistence. His breaks from college were again spent with him. He knew that he wouldn't change his mind about working for Red. He would take these two years to find a path of his own before letting that path lead him back to Red's side.

**Two Years Later**

Red sat in his most recent New York City safe house. He and Dembe had spoken frequently over the phone, but they hadn't seen each other face to face since that dinner two years earlier. It was during their last call that Dembe had requested to meet with him in person to discuss the matter they had shelved two years previously.

While Red had told Dembe he wanted him to experience life away from him it didn't mean that he wasn't going to make sure he knew what Dembe was doing. If Dembe had ever needed help it would have been provided by someone in Red's organization immediately.

It was through this surveillance that Red found out that Dembe was in Africa working as a freedom fighter in the Sudan. When Red first heard this he almost reached out to one of the extraction teams on his payroll, to find and retrieve Dembe. But, he realized that he'd told Dembe to find himself and what he wanted his future to be. This would never happen if he felt it was up to him to decide if Dembe was acting recklessly. It went against all of his protective instincts, but he maintained his distance and did nothing to "save" him from his choice.

A few minutes after their appointed meeting time Newton knocked on the library door before letting himself into the room. Red was unsuccessfully attempting to read a book. He was thinking too much about what Dembe wanted to be able to concentrate. He read the same page three times before Newton's interruption.

"Dembe has just arrived. Do you want me to show him in?" Newton asked.

"Yes, please do."

Moments later Newton returned with a much changed Dembe. He had filled out over the last two years and he radiated a confidence that he didn't have before.

"Dembe!" Red greeted him with a wide smile and walked over to where Dembe stood just inside the room.

"Raymond." Dembe responded with a matching smile.

Red wrapped Dembe in a big hug and placed a kiss on each cheek. He felt Dembe return his kisses before releasing him.

"Come in and sit down. Would you like something to drink? I can have Newton brew some tea, unless you want something stronger."

"Maybe a little later." Dembe responded after taking a seat on the couch at the opposite end from Red.

"The last time we spoke you were working in the Sudan. How did that work out for you?" Red asked.

Dembe smiled as Red's obvious ploy in trying to pretend he didn't already know all about everything he'd been doing.

"After two years it seems like nothing has been achieved. I don't see freedom coming to the Sudan until a world power steps in to take sides." Dembe responded calmly.

"I don't see that happening unless a group of terrorists is found to be using the country as a base."

Dembe nodded his head in agreement before getting to the point of this meeting.

"The two year break that you insisted on has passed. My decision has not changed. I want to come work for you in whatever capacity that you want or need."

"I didn't expect you to change your mind. I just wanted to give you a chance to decide for sure that it is what you want. Did I ever tell you that I really didn't want to go to Annapolis? I wanted to go to Harvard and study law. My father wanted me to go to West Point, but was willing to settle for Annapolis. He wouldn't accept anything, but a military academy and I didn't have the courage to stand up to him. If I'd waited a couple of years after high school to make my decision, there is a good chance that I would have found the courage to stand up to him. The course of my life would have been changed dramatically. I didn't want to be like my father and expect you to live your life the way I demanded. I accept that you know what this decision means and of course you can come work for me. Welcome back and I hope you don't come to regret this choice one day."

"Thank you Raymond. I'm happy to be back and I don't think I'll regret this decision."

Over the following decade Dembe had moments when he wondered how his life would have been if he'd never returned to Red's side. Sometimes these thoughts occurred to him after sitting next to Red's sickbed wondering if this was the time that Red's luck would run out and at other times it was when he couldn't stop Red from taking some nearly suicidal action against one of his enemies.

The most recent moment of regret surfaced when Red informed him of his plan to surrender to the FBI. He tried to convince him that there had to be another way to protect Lizzie from the man who was pretending to be her husband. Red would be taking a terrible risk that might see him thrown into a deep, dark hole somewhere, never to see the light of day again.

Red had been in the FBI's hands for nearly ten days before Dembe received instructions that he and Luli were expected to meet Red at some old post office building within the hour. He and Luli sat in one of Red's many Mercedes Benz sedans waiting for Red to make an appearance. From this point forward they would be walking a terrible tightrope. They needed to help the FBI in tracking down the names on Red's personal Most Wanted List while still maintaining the image of the Concierge of Crime for the rest of the world.

He looked up at the sound of voices and footsteps drawing near. He opened the door as soon as he saw Red walking towards him. When Red saw Dembe waiting for him he smiled and called his name, "Dembe!"

As Red turned away to greet Luli, Dembe got his first up close look at the woman who was as important to Red as he was. Lizzie looked very young, confused and angry all at the same time. It would be interesting to see what it was that Red found so fascinating about her. When he heard Red warn the male agent about Luli he recognized the agent that had been put in charge of Red's capture. Dembe had gathered all the information he could about the task force that had hunted Red for over five years. He didn't see anything remarkable about Agent Ressler and Red spoke of him in mocking tones. Ressler was unable to capture Red due to narrow mindedness, he couldn't think outside of the box enough to devise a trap that Red couldn't see from a mile away.

Red and Dembe both knew that the coming months and years would be difficult. As long as each of them had the other to watch the other's back they knew they'd have a better chance in surviving the Blacklist.


End file.
